Get Sherlock!
by SkyGem
Summary: It helped, in situations like these, to have a "friend" who could read you like a book, even without legilimency. Challenge-fic. Pairings undecided.
1. Get Sherlock!

Summary: It helped, in situations like these, to have a "friend" who could read you like a book, even without legilimency. Challenge-fic. Pairings undecided.

SkyGem: This is an experimental fic for me, a challenge I gave myself in which, with every chapter I add, I add on 100 words to the total word count of the chapter. This first one is exactly 100 words long, the next will be exactly 200, etc. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Sherlock.

* * *

It was all wrong.

Everything was so, so wrong.

James and Lily were dead.

Peter was a traitor.

And he was going to go to Azkaban in the little git's place.

And for some reason, this was all just so damn hilarious for Sirius.

He found himself laughing and laughing and laughing for no reason at all.

Or maybe the reason was that he knew someone.

He knew someone who would get a kick out of this.

Turning to look at the Daily Prophet reporter who had already arrived on the scene, he shouted three distinct words.

"_GET SHERLOCK HOLMES!_"

* * *

SkyGem: Please let me know what you thought! I will post the next chapter as soon as I can, but for now, I need sleep.


	2. Could Be Dangerous

Get Sherlock Holmes.

Those three words had been causing quite the fuss in the Wizarding world for the past few days.

Everyone, of course, knew of the eccentric pureblood who preferred to spend his time alone, doing God knows what while he waited for the only person who could stand him (and vice versa) to come home to him from the war.

In fact, it was really only because this person, who had finally been able to come home due to the vanquishing of the Dark Lord, had shoved the Daily Prophet in Sherlock's face that the young genius actually saw those iconic words.

And when he saw them, the man sneered in obvious disgust at the state the ministry had gotten to, immediately finding at least five holes in their theory. And by the time he was finished reading the entire article, the theory looked more like Swiss cheese than evidence that could have sent Black to Azkaban without a trial, as he was sure the ministry was trying to accomplish at this very moment.

Standing up and reaching for his coat, the detective looked over at his best friend with a smile on his face.

"Could be dangerous."


	3. About Time

Sirius Black had been in Azkaban for four days before his saviour finally showed his face.

Honestly, he'd been starting to worry that either his plea had been covered up by the ministry, or the case had bored Holmes and Watson hadn't been around to act as his conscience.

But then on his fifth day, Sirius was woken from his nightmares by the screech of his cell door opening and someone dropping to their knees beside him, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Sirius?" a voice asked, "Are you okay?"

Blinking open bleary eyes, Sirius smiled when he saw John Watson looking down at him.

"About time you got here," he replied, trying for a joking tone. The effect was ruined when his voice came out sounding like a croak due to the fact that his prison wardens apparently didn't know how much water a grown man required.

"Sorry," replied Watson with an apologetic grimace as he helped Sirius stand up. "It's been crazy these past few days, cleaning up after the fall of Voldemort, and when I finally saw that article in the Prophet, I was appalled that Sherlock hadn't been paying enough attention to the news to have noticed it. We should have gotten you out a lot earlier."

And he sounded so genuinely sorry, Sirius couldn't find it in himself to be upset with him. Watson had always been like that, so impossible to hate, and he could have been so popular if he hadn't insisted on hanging out with Holmes. But from the moment they'd met on the train, Holmes and Watson had been inseparable, and had made the perfect rivals for the Marauders.

"At least you got me out," replied Sirius with a shrug, "Which is more than can be said about anyone else."


	4. Quiet!

It was only once they'd arrived safely back in the Leaky Cauldron, where they would be meeting Sherlock, that John was able to shake off the effects of the dementors. Nasty buggers, they were. He couldn't imagine how Sirius still seemed so normal after four days with them.

John was so caught up in his thoughts about dementors that it took him a few moments to notice that everyone in the pub was staring at him.

The huge gaggle of reporters gathered around Sherlock seemed especially intrigued, and had him surrounded in seconds, asking questions like, "Can you please explain to us how Mr Holmes determined that Black wasn't guilty?" or, "Were you successful in retrieving Black from Azkaban?"

The questions, however, were cut short when Sirius stumbled out of the floo after him, coughing and looking slightly ragged even after John's attempts to clean him up.

Acting quickly to stop the excited reporters from swarming his charge, John stepped in front of Sirius, blocking off their paths to him, and barked out in his most commanding voice, "Quiet!"

As the room was plunged into silence, John pointed Sirius towards where Sherlock was sitting, following after him like a bodyguard and glaring at anyone who dared take even a step in their direction.

Once Sirius was seated beside Sherlock and John was stood behind the two of them at parade rest, he finally acknowledge the reporters.

We will be answering only five questions at this time," John told them, "So choose carefully. Once those questions are answered, you are to leave us to our meal. Do I make myself clear?"

The reporters all nodded obediently in reply, eager not to get on his bad side.

"Good," said John before choosing a tiny female reporter near the front who seemed the most decent of the lot, deliberately ignoring Rita Skeeter.

"How were you able to get Mr Black out of Azkaban so quickly and without a trial?"

Sherlock opened his mouth as if he were about to reply, but John beat him to it, not wanting his friend to make some kind of scathing remark that would offend the reporters.

"Seeing as the ministry didn't find it necessary to give Sirius a trial when putting him into Azkaban, we didn't think he'd need one to get out either. After all, Sherlock's case really didn't leave room for questions about his innocence."


	5. WHAT?

Sirius sat quietly watching as Watson expertly manoeuvred through the reporters' questions. He had to admit he was rather impressed; not only at Watson's tactful answers, but also at how he seemed to just know, even without looking, whenever Holmes opened his mouth to make a presumably scathing reply to one of the questions, and immediately cut him off before he could utter a word.

It was also rather funny to watch Rita Skeeter trying so hard to get Watson's attention only to have Watson ignore her as if she weren't even there.

Before long, the question and answer session was over, and the reporters were thankfully leaving the three of them alone.

As she was walking dejectedly away, Watson placed a hand on Skeeter's arm, and she looked up at him with surprise on her face.

"I'll have you know, Ms Skeeter, Sherlock has a rather intense dislike of _beetles_," he said, a pleasant smile on his face. "I honestly don't know _what_ he'd do if he saw one lurking around. Might even bring it up with the _ministry._"

By the time he was done speaking, Skeeter's face was pale as a sheet, and she seemed unable to form a coherent sentence.

As soon as Watson had let go of her arm, though, she said a hasty, "I'll be sure to keep that in mind, Mr Watson," and scuttled off without looking back.

And as Watson sat down at the table, the smile on his face becoming more natural, Sirius couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

"And when did you become so good at talking, Watson?"

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he replied, "Well, considering who I spend the majority of my free time with, I kind of needed to get better at speaking due to this idiot's habit of putting his foot in his mouth."

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock apparently didn't believe that comment deserved a reply, instead saying, "Really, John, _what_ are we even still doing here? The interesting bit is over, and you wouldn't let me say a word to the press. I have more important things to do with my time than to comfort idiots who have themselves thrown into Azkaban on false charges. Just call Dumbledore and Lupin to take care of him."

"Sentiment," was Watson's only reply as he rolled his eyes and signalled Tom, the bartender, over.

As Sherlock frowned, obviously trying to figure out what Watson had meant, Watson himself just smiled up at Tom, saying, "Mind bringing some hot chocolate, Tom? Three mugs."

And as Tom ambled away to get their drinks, Watson smiled back at Sirius, saying, "I assume that after this you would like to go speak to Dumbledore about your godson?"

And Sirius nodded, his mind immediately going to the newly orphaned Harry, and how badly he had failed him.

"I'm not sure who Dumbledore placed him with but-"

"Petunia," Sherlock replied shortly, sounding bored.

And Sirius just stared at Sherlock for a second before shouting, "WHAT?"


End file.
